At The Funeral
by Adi Who is Also Mou
Summary: A month after the rather out-of-the-world experience of being a nanny to the consulting detective, Molly Hooper gets thrown into a case too close to her own family for her comfort. As always, who to call when there's an unusual case? Right. This won't be awkward at all. Sequel to As Above As Below, but can be read alone.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N1: Well, here we are...a sequel. Now, this one might be a little bit more...serious than As Above As Below, but I figured the moment called for it. But no worries, the fluff will be there!**_

_**In case any of you were wondering, this is based on Agatha Christie's novel "The Body in the Library" (obviously) and to some extent the Doctor Who episode "The Unicorn and the Wasp." Don't ask why. I DO WHAT I WANT.**_

_**Now read on! And I'll see you at the finish!**_

_**Shout out to A Pirate By Any Other Name, or Tiffany, for being so brilliant and a wonderful beta. Go read her stories! *Pwease?***_

* * *

Molly Hooper took a bracing drink of red wine and cast a fresh eye over the room. Her family, dressed all in drab black clothing, were scattered around Great Aunt Christie's study. She would rather be anywhere but here, here among Aunt Christie's old relics, ones she used to play with when she was younger. Now it felt as if those relics, once so friendly and full of joy, were glaring at everyone in the room.

Especially that sock monkey in the corner.

Molly shivered and resisted the urge to run. She never really got along with any of her family, and the only person who understood her morbid interests and her equally morbid profession was lying in the coffin. A delicate brush of fingers on her left fore-arm made her jump out of her reverie. She smiled at the blonde woman sitting next to her, looking at her worriedly.

"I'm fine, Mary," Molly said soothingly. Mary bit her lip and looked unconvinced.

"You looked like you were eons away."

"It's alright, just reminiscing about Aunt Christie." She gave Mary a warm look. "Thanks for accompanying me here, by the way."

Now it was Mary's turn to smile, "Oh, it's my pleasure. I'm so honored you chose me to come with you here…at this sort of time."

"I don't think I could have stayed here for this long if it wasn't for you." Both women shared a warm smile, each thanking their stars that they had somehow managed to find the other.

"If you two start kissing, may I record it?" A sly voice shattered through the moment.

Molly glared at her cousin, "We are not a couple, Conway."

Conway Jefferson laughed, "Well, you could have fooled me." He winked at Mary, "Well then, since Miss Morstan is presumably single, would she mind coming on tour with me in this musty old house?"

"Oh…I…um…" Mary started, getting unreasonably flustered.

Molly rolled her eyes. She was a great deal more at ease around her family; she had made it clear a long time ago she despised the whole lot of them for disinheriting her father on a petty issue, "Conway, I see marriage hasn't eased your libido one dot."

"Maybe if you got laid more often, _Molls_, you wouldn't be so uptight all the time."

Molly waved a hand dismissively, "Mary, you can go on the tour with him if you want, he won't stop talking until you do." She smirked at her cousin and added, "I would go with you, but I doubt I can resist the urge to smack him with the largest phallic object I can find for long."

Mary laughed easily and took the hand Conway had proffered, "I'll be back before long, Molly."

"Have fun! Oh and Conway," she looked at her cousin, "Do show her the garden, won't you? She would appreciate the statues there." Molly paused and shivered, "They remind me too much of the Weeping Angels."

Conway stared at her while Mary giggled, "Weeping Angels? What are you, thirty three going on four?"

"You are never too old for the Doctor." Molly retorted.

Conway threw an incredulous look at Molly before heading off in the direction of stairwell, no doubt hoping to show Mary Aunt Christie's impressive library. It was the sort of thing that defined the house, and new visitors were always taken there. Molly sighed. She would join them soon, but for now, she needed another drink of wine.

They hadn't been gone ten minutes when she heard Mary's shrill shriek as well as Conway's. If she hadn't been so intent on following Arthur Bantry up the stairs, she would have put away Conway's girlie shriek for subsequent use.

Arthur wrenched open the door to the library, and Molly could barely just get a glimpse of Mary Morstan backed up against the shelves, white in the face and looking as if she was about to faint. Conway had collapsed on the moth-eaten armchair next to the fireplace.

Then her gaze shifted, as Arthur gave a muffled shout, to the body of the young woman lying on the thread-carpet, platinum blonde, dressed as if she was going to attend a ball and very clearly…dead.

Molly stuck her suddenly shaking hands into her purse, reaching around for her mobile phone. Dialing a number she had long since saved on speed dial, she swallowed and said, "Gre-Greg? It's me, Molly. Molly Hooper. There's been…a bit of trouble."

* * *

"Well, she's dead alright." Anderson stated as he finished the preliminary check-ups. "Dead as a doornail."

"Yes, Anderson, thank you for your deep insight," Molly snapped from where she was sitting next to Mary on the futon, rubbing soothing circles on the blanket covering her shoulder.

Greg Lestrade ran a hand through his graying hair, "Are you sure you lot don't know her, at all? A body can't just appear in a closed up place like this."

"No, Detective Inspector, we honestly don't know who the bloody hell she is," Arthur Bantry said irritably, "Do you know her, Con?"

Conway shook his head, "No, brother. She looks like-"

"She looks like a hussie, that's what she looks like," said Dolly Bantry, a singularly unpleasant cousin whom Molly disliked intensely, from the doorway.

Sally stepped forward, her heels causing puffs of dust to rise up from the moldy carpet of the library, "Now ma'am, this area is off limits. You would mind going downstairs? We will keep you updated."

Arthur gave his wife an apologetic look as she glared at him while being ushered out by the sergeant.

"If you ask me," Conway chipped up suddenly, "She looks like Dinah." His statement was met by blank stares and he hastily added, "Dinah Lee. You know, the bombshell Basil Blake from next door is dating."

"Right," Lestrade said, nodding at Sally, "You go see if Mr. Blake is in. The rest of you-"

"You aren't going to call him in, are you?" Sally interrupted. "Cause we can handle this."

Molly snorted uncharacteristically, "Yeah. And your hypothesis so far is that-"

"She's dead." Lestrade shot Anderson a reproving look. "Try not to make me punch you, Anderson. I'm calling him in anyway."

"Calling who in?" Mary asked, looking up at Molly.

Molly swallowed. "Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. And oh boy is this going to be awkward."

* * *

**_A/N2: So, what do you all think? Now loads of love to all of you who reviewed, faved and followed As Above As Below, and I'm also hoping you'd like this one._**

**_In other news, I'm also writing an alternate version to As Above As Below, I hope you'd read that one too!_**

**_Review?_**

**_Adi xoxo_**


	2. Chapter 2

At The Funeral

* * *

John Watson had just opened the front door of 221B Baker Street when Mrs. Hudson barreled into him. She took one look at him and grabbed him into a bear hug, one John never thought her capable of giving.

"Oh thank the Lord, you're back!" Mrs. Hudson cried, voice somewhat muffled by John's leather jacket. "He's been in a right state- shooting practice in the middle of the night, screeching violins, and such vile-"

"Alright, alright," John said soothingly, "It's alright Mrs. Hudson, I'll deal with him. Why don't you make yourself a cup of tea?"

After he had managed to get the babbling woman back into her flat, he stalked upstairs, already dreading what he would find. His suspicions weren't wasted. The moment he opened the door, smog drifted out, the smoke so heavy he could barely see. "SHERLOCK!" John shouted, rushing in and anticipating a fire. The smell of various chemicals hung heavy in the air. He managed to get to the curtained windows, throwing them open and letting the sunshine in and the smoke out.

"Argh!" Sherlock groaned from the sofa where he was curled up, "Easy! Go easy on me John-"

"The hell!" John shouted, ignoring the relief he felt at Sherlock being alright and focusing on the fright and anger. "What are you playing at—Oh God!"

He stomped out the fire that had escaped from the fireplace, Sherlock having stuffed it with papers, which he no doubt wanted, to dispose of. Once the smoke cleared, he glared down at the man-child he called best friend, "What do you think you were doing, you overgrown brat?"

Sherlock blinked up at him blearily through one eye. "Experiment. Why did you have to open the windows?"

"Because it's unhealthy and the smoke alarm—oh joy, you shot the smoke alarm. Where did you get my gun?"

"Nicked it from your drawer, I was_ bored_."

John scowled and made a mental note to take the gun with him next time he went to Dublin. "Sherlock, it's been two weeks. You have to get out."

Sherlock looked at him, eyes wide open and said in a why-are-you-still-talking-I'm-bored-entertain-me tone, "Lestrade won't let me take any cases, even though my name is completely cleared. And there's nothing on the blog, just insipid morons-" the way he said 'morons' it sounded to John like he was saying 'mortals'- "Gushing on about how they always believed me, and asking me to help them find their lost mobile phones! Is this what my practice has dissolved to?!" Sherlock finished melodramatically.

John sighed, used to Sherlock being theatrical. "How about St. Bart's? Molly-"

"Is still avoiding me." Sherlock finished for him. "And none of the other pathologists—there-not a patch on Molly, all a bunch of idiots— will let me in the labs without clearance! Clearance, John!"

"Couldn't Mycroft-" John started to say but broke off when he caught sight of the detective's face. "Alright, what do you want to do, Sherlock?" John said, speaking to him as he would to a child. "Play ring-a-ring-a-roses? Blind man's bluff? Tag?"

"Or the Raggedy Doctor," Sherlock mumbled. John stared.

"What? I'm sorry, what?"

Sherlock was saved from answering by his mobile going off. He lurched forward, going on his knees to get to the phone on the coffee table while John looked on bemusedly. "Sherlock Holmes," he answered and John pondered on the fact that Sherlock liked stating his name wherever possible. "Of course. On my way. Text me address and details."

Judging by the look of utter glee on Sherlock's face, John said, "Murder?"

"One of the best kind!" Sherlock replied joyously, bouncing towards his room. "Body found in the library, apparently no one knows who the victim is! Best part, old English country house, all sorts of musty secretive motives there!"

John barely had time to grab his jacket when Sherlock, with those remarkable burst of energy, ran out of the room, still tying up his scarf around his neck, pushed him out the door. "We're off Mrs. Hudson! The game is on!"

John could have sworn Mrs. Hudson said something along the lines of "Thank the Lord there's been a murder!" 221B Baker Street was a very morbid household indeed.

* * *

"How are you holding up, Molls?" DI Lestrade asked as she handed him a mug of steaming coffee. Both of them along with Mary were sitting in Aunt Christie's upstairs kitchen, just a small space with a counter top and a kettle, solely built for the purpose of making tea. Aunt Christie, an incurable tea addict, didn't want to walk down the stairs every time she had wanted tea, hence the kitchen.

Molly found herself missing the old woman more. Her aunt had been the Miss Marple type, she was pretty sure she could have solved this case. Her guts clenched when she thought of the person speeding their way from London right at this moment. "I-I'm fine Greg. I heard you got promoted again," she said lightly.

"Oh yes," Lestrade smiled at her. "Ever since our zombie detective came back from the dead, and gave us Moran, I've been the talk of the force again."

"Seems to me, Sherlock should be the talk of the force," Mary observed.

Greg Lestrade had the grace to turn scarlet. "Well, Miss Morstan, as much as I would love for Sherlock to get all the credit he deserves, the Superintendent is far less lenient. He is still against the very idea of Sherlock working for us." He sighed, "Besides, Sherlock gets his fair share of high profile private cases. He's famous by his own right."

"Speaking of which," Lestrade continued, "Where's that charming nephew of yours, Molly? The one who wanted to be like Sherlock and Doctor Who?"

"The Doctor," Molly corrected automatically. Lestrade grinned at her.

"Oh yes, I've been wandering that as well. Where is he, Molly?" Mary asked.

Molly blushed, and tried to think up a lie, quickly. "Oh um…He…He is-"

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes is here, Inspector." Arthur came into the kitchen area. "And a Doctor Watson."

Molly jumped, her heart thudding erratically as they followed Arthur down the stairs. She hadn't spoken to Sherlock in a month. And before then…the whole entire he-got-turned-into-a-three year old-fiasco. What do you say to a man for whom you were a nanny for three months? "Did you tell Sherlock I was here?" Molly asked now.

Lestrade bit his tongue. "Uh…oops? I was in the middle of a-"

"Is there a problem, Molly?" Mary asked.

"No not at all," Molly lied and Mary's brow furrowed.

They turned around the corner and the moment Molly's eyes met those cat-like green eyes of his, she could tell he hadn't been expecting her at all. Sherlock took a step back, bounced off of John and knocked against a decorative futon in an uncharacteristic show of gracelessness.

"Well then," John said, raising his eyebrows as Sherlock straightened himself, "That was certainly new."

* * *

_A/N: Hello all! Long time no see! Missed you loads, and I hope you like this chapter! A bit transitional, but it was needed. Now I have to go to college, so thank you all for reviewing, faving and following! And see you very soon ;)_

_Comment some more?_

_Lots of love,_

_Adi xox_


	3. Chapter 3

At The Funeral 3

* * *

Molly stood transfixed as she watched Sherlock work, his movements akin to that of a bloodhound, as he poked and prodded at the poor girl's body. Because every member of the police force, with the exception of the DI, had been kicked out the moment Sherlock stalked into Aunt Christie's library, John had his pencil poised over his notepad, waiting for the moment Sherlock went off into his barrage of deadly accurate deductions.

"I missed seeing him work," Lestrade said as he leaned against the bookshelf next to her, Molly holding back her whimper as she saw one of her aunt's china figures come perilously close to the ledge of the shelf. "The only case he had been allowed on was the Metzger case two months back and even then he was consulted on a very minor basis."

Molly noticed John making shushing gestures at Lestrade but it was too late. Sherlock had heard. "If your foolish Superintendent hadn't been so _moronic_ and let me in on it, that case would have been solved sooner."

John rolled his eyes. "Do your job before we get thrown out again, Sherlock."

Lestrade grinned. "Oh I don't think you would get thrown out of here," he leered at Molly. "Not while Molly owns the place."

John turned his attention to the pathologist even though Sherlock had gone back to sniffing the dead girl's mouth. "Really, Molly? This whole place is yours?"

"Obviously not," Sherlock snapped just as Molly opened her mouth. "It belonged to the dead woman in the coffin downstairs. Though Miss Hooper will be coming into some inheritance." He straightened up and glanced at her, just barely. Molly felt a familiar whooshing sensation nonetheless. "Any connection of your relative's death to this one?"

Molly shook her head and swallowed. "None, I glanced over Aunt Christie's autopsy results myself. Cause of death is clearly complications from cancer."

He nodded, and Molly, despite herself, was distracted by that one soft, bouncing curl. Sherlock steepled his fingers together, "Go through how you found her for me."

"Oh, err…" Molly began with some difficulty, wrenching her eyes away from his hair, "Mary and Conway would be able to help you with that better than me. They found the body first."

Sherlock finally gave her the full brunt of his attention and a shiver ran through her. "Then pray, do bring them in for me, Miss Hooper."

* * *

"Why are you calling her Miss Hooper all of a sudden?" John asked Sherlock as Molly left the room, Lestrade staring after her in a manner that made the doctor a tad bit uncomfortable.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows at his friend.

"Usually it's Molly," John clarified. "It's always Molly this and Molly that. The only time you called her Miss Hooper was at the Christmas party when you were being even more of a dick than normal."

Sherlock sniffed and focused on the DI. "Are your divorce proceedings completed, Inspector?" he said in a tone which told John that Sherlock was preparing to be his usual jerk-ass self.

Lestrade glared at him. "Yes, actually, the wife-"

"Is currently sleeping with her personal trainer," Sherlock said dismissively.

"Sherlock," John warned. Sherlock looked at his friend.

"Not good?"

Lestrade clenched his hands into fists. "I'm going to see where Molly got off to."

John stared at Lestrade's retreating back and said exasperatedly, "Bit not good, yeah."

Sherlock did not even bother pretending to look ashamed. "Now then, Doctor Watson, your diagnosis?

John knelt beside the body without preamble and cast a medical eye over it. "Death by strangulation, possibly by a rope, no finger marks have formed-"

"By the satin belt of her dress," Sherlock put in.

"Yes, yes," John nodded distractedly, "Time of death…I would put it in about ten to twelve o'clock last night."

"The room is warm and stuffy, that would delay rigor and cadaveric stiffening."

"Exactly," John agreed. "Her muscles are very well developed in some places, but I wouldn't say her age was anywhere near twenty five or so. Any other details would have to wait for the autopsy, I'm afraid. What have you found?"

Sherlock was prevented from replying by the entrance of Conway Jefferson and Mary Morstan, both looking a bit pale, with Molly bringing up the rear.

"Greg said he needed to have a talk with his squad," Molly explained, "he'll be back soon."

"Do we have to talk with that body on the floor?" Mary said quietly, her voice trembling a bit.

"Of course not!" John said kindly, looking at her encouragingly. "We can do this in another room, can't we, Sherlock?"

"Sit down on the futon, Miss…Morstan, isn't it? Don't worry; the police have already done their damage. You too, Mr. Jefferson."

John sighed and rolled his eyes at Molly, who mirrored his expression. Sherlock remained oblivious to their shared exasperation. He nodded at the two seated uncomfortably on the musty futon. "Tell me _exactly_ how you found the body."

"We've been through this with the police before," Conway began testily.

"Then go through it again," Sherlock said irritably, collapsing onto the armchair in front of the fireplace. He cast a glance at John. "Please."

Mary Morstan swallowed and began, but addressed Molly, as if she was too nervous to look into Sherlock's piercing green-blue eyes. "Well, Conway was just about to give me a tour of the house, and he brought me here first-,"

"Why here, of all places?" Sherlock inquired, in a much more polite tone than usual.

"This room is sort of like a…attraction of sorts," Molly provided. "It has a sort of an Old English country house feel. And it was Aunt Christie's favorite room."

"Then why is it so dusty?" Sherlock said innocently.

"Aunt Christie had been ill for quite some time, Sherlock," Molly snapped. "I don't think 'cleaning the bloody library' had been high on her list. And she refused to let any of the housekeepers come in as well."

"Continue, Miss Morstan." Sherlock had turned his attention back to Mary once more.

"I don't see what else there is to say, actually," Mary replied. "I came in, saw the body, and screamed. Conway held me, I'm not very good with the dead as I would like to be, until Molly and her cousin arrived."

"I see. Do you have anything else to add, Mr. Jefferson?"

"No, not at all,-"

"Did you by any chance move the carpet?"

"What?" Conway exclaimed, while both Molly and John shared a look.

"Never mind and I think that will do," Sherlock said, suddenly cheery. "Now get out, I need to go to my mind palace."

"Your what?" Mary asked, puzzled.

"I think it's better if we go," John said, watching as his best friend leaned back into the armchair, his eyes hooded, masking the fact that his brain was probably working faster than any computer. "He won't be doing much now, just running around in his brain, trying to join the dots."

"Palace, but why did he say _palace_?" Conway asked as John ushered them out the door.

"Yeah well…" John said evasively, "Uh…Mary…it's Mary, right? May I interest you in a cup of tea? Molly showed me where the kitchen was."

* * *

Molly stayed behind for a while, watching Sherlock sink into a trance, his eyes moving under their lids, his slender fingers tapping out a rhythm onto the arm-rests. She could find no discernible pattern.

It was a relief in some ways, she mused, that Sherlock was back. No one needed to know what happened in those three months he was in her care. He himself did not remember them. The other three years…no. She did not need to dwell on those. He was here, alive and well. Back to where he belonged. With Doctor Watson at his side and being London's greatest crime fighting duo.

And she…needed to move on.

She was about to move past him when he grasped her wrist suddenly, startling her. She stared down at him as he looked at her, his usually clear eyes surprisingly fogged with the intensity of the thought processes running around in his brain.

"Molly," he stated calmly, even though he sounded like he was a mile away. "Could you run your fingers through my hair? It speeds up the process."

"I still haven't forgiven you or anything."

Sherlock hmmed as if he really wasn't listening, as without so much as a by-your-leave lifted her hand and sifted her fingers through his hair.

"You are a child," she said exasperatedly, but rubbed his scalp regardless. He _purred_ contently.

"Or a cat," Molly continued. "You purr just like Toby sometimes."

'Molly,"

"I'm still mad at you. This doesn't change anything."

"Molly, shut up."

In retaliation, Molly tugged unnecessarily hard on his follicles, but that only made him purr more.

Hair kink much?

* * *

"AH!" Sherlock exclaimed, jolting upright, causing Molly to jerk her hand away in surprise. Not even two minutes had passed since he _ordered_ her to massage his head. She stared at her fingers, surely they couldn't work miracles?

Sherlock was muttering at high speed, "That would explain the dust…no traces…she…"

He pounded his fists on the shelf in frustration and Molly bit back another exclamation as one particularly delicate china figure leaned precariously on the edge. "All messed up…curses Anderson, couldn't you wipe your sodding feet when you walked in…"

John had just opened the door when Sherlock jumped into the air, shouting, "Got it! Oh, I'm BRILLIANT!"

Sherlock's weight falling onto the floor caused the surrounding shelves to shake, and finally the china figure lost its battle with gravity.

"Oh," Molly said as John exclaimed loudly, "I used to like that."

Without another word, she walked out of the room, her head bowed and hands clenched.

"Wonderful," John told an oblivious Sherlock. "Just bloody wonderful, you overgrown man-child."

* * *

_A/N: Hi dears! So sorry for the long wait, and this chapter is short to boot! But anyway, I hope you liked this. Heaps of love to those who faved, followed and reviewed-_ **_Aditi, animefan0000012345, Rocking the Redhead, Doctor WTF, Empress Of Verace, lostmypen120, drey'auc475, Lono, MisplacedHyperQuill, magicstrikes, MorbidByDefault, DarcyJayne, shepweir always, Irma Arisa Laye, SammyKatz, Cumbebabe, BlackButterflyPrincess, LaserGirl77, Raxacoricofallapatorian17, Vi-Violence, The TallTree1, AliceDayForever and the guest!_**

_The next chapter might be a while. My beta and I are both very very busy. Also, don't tell Tiffany I don't deserve her and she's brilliant. SHHH!_

_However, keep a look out for a Christmassy fic ;)_

_Love,_

_Adi xoxo_


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